What a fresh breath of air.
The shuffle dare plays ginsberg and borroughs like I have a semblance of taste and I’m lost in this waterfall dictation, and my dog is barking at me because I got caught going outside for a breath of fresh air.
There’s these psychedelic sludgy tunes playing and all I wanna hear is some sweet muddy shit talking about good Eno ugh. Because that’s what I am right? Right! Righhhtt… Me, the impeccable writer. Starving? Well, most of the time. Creative juices flowing, after another half of year break trying to earn my dignity in the “do the good thing society,” I realized I have none! And the world has been my oyster since. A whole bushel of those clumping ones, I love so darn much. I have the taste of burlap sack, in my mouth; at this exact very moment. This was necessary to know.
And this moment, led me to the presumption that my oh, so scrumptious lechon kawali may be burning in the oven before it has even reached temperature within the 8 minutes ago, I raised it.
This my friends, is what you call anxiety. Boy, am I full-of-it, today.
I was quite active. The dog walked me and I whipped my tail as a dragon, quickly sometime later. No cross junctions in these activities. The park wasn’t even there, just a one and a half square foot of laminated wood flooring, spirits of the many encounters and such and so forth. I stomped my feet even when I didn’t want to.
And these songs I don’t know, keep carrying on.
These songs are talking jokes and chumps. And I wonder what lump of luck it means, I could come into.
See, time is an illusion.
And of the benefactor, of this society called existence. I’m waiting for my turn, baby! Time is money and I got none of it, so what else could I really wish for?
A few moments just to hear another song I’ve never heard before.
Oh dang, did I say something smart? Same? I’m not sure, here.
As I enlighten myself with another indoor breath of fresh air as my lungs crawl the distance in my desolate-ly still body, just to reach the gust from the window.
I told myself, I would do this again.
And I did.
Job well done. Job well earned.
I am not a phony.
I’m a patron(ized).
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